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Yes, it must be Spring.  Spring is a time for intrusions, and I am not psychologically ready for it – the winter doldrums have barely begun to fade into the sunset, which is coming much later than it did last month, a good indication that our contrived time warp, Daylight Savings Time, has intruded again upon our extra hour of sleep. And to add to this dilemma, the first day of spring arrived just a few days ago. There is no recourse in sight!

And, there are unmistakable harbingers of spring making their intrusion into Burley’s environs. Weeds, along with the ritual gang “tags” on freshly painted property, have already reared their ugly heads in the alleys and byways of our fair city. One ponders the possibility of using extra-strength Round-up on both of these blights, but upon further reflection, realizes that practicing such an extreme extermination measure would doubtlessly receive extreme responses from our law enforcement personnel. Just a fleeting thought, albeit a creative one!

Creativity is indeed a mantra which occurs in a significant portion of Burley’s spring scene. In some instances, it is hard to discern – the gray trappings of winter do not yield readily to the intrusion of spring’s greenery. Green grass has already sneaked its way into the dead cover of yellowed lawns, and green is stealthily creeping up the stems on the rose bushes, a furtive activity hidden by the rusty leaves left by the last freeze of autumn. The specter of unending yard maintenance looms its intrusive head – heralding an end to the freedom imposed by winter’s kill. The early-bird yard fanatics are already out there attacking the above-mentioned yellow lawns and rusty rose bushes, leaving those of us who don’t feel an early compulsion to indulge in this rite of spring dealing with an intrusive sense of guilt.

And, of course, the ever-present squirrels are frantically running around in their squirrelly little circles – their own ritual of springtime procreation. At this point, I would do well to stick with the squirrels – observations of springtime procreational behavior in humans might indeed prove to be risky business for this writer.

On a safer note, the proliferation of  walkers, both young and old, en route to city schools and on the walking paths along the river is an obvious harbinger of spring – an escape from the darkness of indoor habitation imposed upon Burley inhabitants by Idaho’s quirky winter weather. Dogs on leashes abound – eagerly dragging their hapless owners along with them as they pursue their springtime investigations into “marked” areas along the way. Cats prowl the neighborhoods, making their own territorial statements. All “creatures great and small” celebrate the intrusion of spring, a rite as old as time itself. All creatures, that is, except for me.

I must tear myself away from these bucolic observations. Our Christmas decorations are still standing on the basement floor and must be put away before next winter arrives.

Spring can wait. And so can the weeds.

Sarah M. Blasius